


The Flayed Man and the Lion

by RavensFan1989



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Game of Thrones spoilers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:31:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7556641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavensFan1989/pseuds/RavensFan1989
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roose has come to the capital after the Red Wedding to be formally named Warden of the North...but that isn't the only reason he has decided to make the journey south.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Flayed Man and the Lion

**Author's Note:**

> My first try at a Boltwin fanfic. I hope you enjoy it! :)

Robb Stark and his mother were dead, along with all of his people who had had the misfortune of attending his uncle’s wedding with him. For his part, Lord Walder Frey was going to receive Riverrun. But there was another man who had been just as integral in the wedding plans as Lord Frey had been, and that man was currently in King’s Landing to be formally named as Warden of the North. It had not been necessary for Lord Roose Bolton to come to the capital but he had decided to do so nonetheless. 

King Joffrey had gone through the necessary motions with the small council and many highborn lords and ladies attending. But Roose seemed to have eyes only for one person there: the Hand of the King…and Tywin did not fail to note that. It had been twenty-six years since last the two had ever seen each other but neither of them were likely to forget the brief time they had spent together back then when the Mad King still reigned. 

Tywin did not know what Roose planned to do during his stay in the capital but it mattered little to him whatever it might be. The Hand had plenty of his own business to take care of these days. The King in the North may now be dead but there was still Stannis Baratheon out there. He may have been soundly defeated on the Blackwater but anyone who knew anything about that Baratheon knew that he was a stubborn man; one defeat was not going to cause him to give up his quest for the Iron Throne. And words were not going to win this war. 

He had retired to his chambers in the Tower of the Hand. He was sitting behind his desk, going over some letters, when one of his guards stepped inside. 

“M’lord, Lord Bolton is here and wishes to speak with you,” he announced. 

Tywin had been hoping that Roose would not have thought twice about visiting him. He could only hope that the Northerner only wished to receive further assurances that House Lannister would not abandon the Boltons now that they had done their part to take care of Robb Stark. He could only hope that this visitation had nothing to do with what had happened between the two of them in the past. 

Setting down his quill, Tywin told his guard, “Send him in.” 

The man immediately left to obey him, and a few seconds later Roose stepped into the room. “My lord,” he greeted Tywin, inclining his head slightly. 

“Lord Bolton,” he returned the greeting, sounding only a tiny bit displeased at this interruption and remaining seated, “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing that you haven’t already done.” Unbidden, Roose took one of the seats across the desk. 

Tywin’s pale green eyes bore into Lord Bolton. “Then why are you here?”

Roose was not at all concerned that he was disturbing the Hand of the King and, inarguably, one of the most ruthless men in all of the Seven Kingdoms. “How long has it been? Thirty years?”

“Close enough.” Deciding he was not going to be getting rid of the new Warden of the North anytime soon, Tywin picked up the carafe of Dornish red on his desk and poured two cups. He slid one over to Roose and took a sip out of his own. “I was Hand to a different king. You came to the capital for King Aerys’ nameday celebration.” Many had come from all across Westeros, not because they loved their king and wanted to honor him on his nameday but because they wanted a glimpse themselves of the Mad King who was growing madder every day. 

Lord Bolton smiled. “I was in the capital to meet the fabled Tywin Lannister.” 

Tywin had made his way through the crowd that day and had eventually reached the just newly named Lord Bolton. He remembered thinking his conversation with him would last no longer than any of the other’s he had had that evening. But he recognized a kindred spirit in the younger man: they were both two lords who were looking to make sure that their family name lived on after they were gone—lived on and commanded respect long after the two of them were dead. 

He had spent more time with Roose than he had thought he would. The two of them had shared one too many glasses of wine together. When everything had started to feel too uncomfortable and crowded in the throne room, Tywin had invited Roose back to the Tower of the Hand so they could continue their conversation in peace and quiet. 

Only talking was not what they had done when they had gotten to Tywin’s chambers. Who was it that had initiated the first kiss? If Tywin remembered correctly, then it was Roose. Tywin hadn’t wanted to return it. He hadn’t been with anyone since Joanna had died the previous year and hadn’t planned on being with anyone else. But the alcohol and the instantaneous pleasure of being so near to someone else—someone else who understood him—was enough to cause Tywin to cave in. 

It wasn’t until the follow morning that the regrets came…at least for Tywin. Roose had tried to see him before he left King’s Landing. Tywin had refused to see him. He had put the incident in the back of his mind, and over the years he had learned to forget that it had ever happened. He hadn’t expected to ever see Roose again. Northerners rarely visited the capital for any reason. 

But here he was. Tywin took another sip of his wine and then set the cup aside. “You shared with me your hopes and dreams for House Bolton.”

“And you shared your hopes and dreams for House Lannister with me. It appears we’ve both achieved them now. I’m Warden of the North, and your grandson is on the Iron Throne. Much has changed, and yet some things have remained the same. I still long for—“

Tywin cut him off, suspecting—and not liking—how Lord Bolton planned to finish his sentence. “Did you come here merely to reminiscence about bygone days? I don’t have time for this. I have a kingdom to rule.” Even as he spoke those words, though, he felt a stirring down below, both comfortable and uncomfortable, as his mind warred with his body. 

“You do. Forgive me for interrupting you, my lord,” Roose replied, sounding not the least bit contrite. He stood up, turned his back on Tywin, and began to head for the door. 

He had not gotten very far when Tywin said, “Wait.” One word. One command. 

Roose smiled to himself before turning back around again. “My lord?” He sounded appropriately confused, even if he had known that the odds had been in his favor that Tywin would ask him to stay. 

Tywin stood up and slowly made his way over to the other man. “Nothing we do leaves this room. If I suspect that you’ve—“

It was Roose who cut him off this time. “Even in the North we have heard ‘The Rains of Castamere’ sung many times.” And Roose had no doubt in his mind that Tywin would not hesitate to destroy House Bolton should certain rumors concerning the Hand start to arise. He placed his hands on the Hand’s hips. Roose leaned forward, locking their lips together. 

Tywin hesitated at first—his mind still insisting that he shouldn’t be doing this. But it was a losing fight his mind was having right now. He returned the kiss, his hands resting on the small of Roose’s back. 

Roose moved down to Tywin’s neck and began to unlace and unbutton his tunic, heedful of the small moans he was already beginning to elicit from the Hand when he found particularly sensitive spots on his skin. 

When they were both shirtless, Tywin led them over to his bed. The rest of their clothes were soon on the ground. Roose lay down on the bed, pulling Tywin down on top of him.  
Their kisses continued, as Roose wrapped a hand around Tywin’s member. He began to slowly stroke him.

Neither of them knew how much time passed in that manner. But Tywin had not been with anyone since his first and only other time with Roose. He did not last as long as either of them would have liked before he spilled his seed into Roose’s hand, a shiver running up and down his spine as he did so. 

Closely following the pleasure came shame and disgust. He wasted no time in getting up and making his way over to the small basin of water in his room. He picked up a cloth and began to wash himself. His back was to Roose but he could very well guess what the other man was doing right now. His surmise was confirmed when he heard the Warden of the North let out a prolonged groan.  
Deliberately not looking towards his bed, Tywin walked over to his wardrobe and chose a clean outfit to change into. He could feel Roose’s eyes on him. It wasn’t until he was fully dressed again that he turned to face the man still lying on his bed. 

“Clean yourself, get dressed, and leave,” he commanded Roose. Tywin left the room and soon found himself seated back behind his desk. He needed to write to Lord Walder Frey, who was expecting to hear how appreciative King Joffrey was for all that he had done. 

He had gotten no more than the greeting and two sentences into the letter when Roose stepped into the room, looking as if nothing untoward had happened between them only minutes ago. “My lord, I—“

Tywin cut him off. “Have nothing to say.” He kept his eyes fixed on the letter before him. “You know the way to your accommodations for the night.”

Roose nodded his head, even if Tywin could not see it. The implication was all too clear: he and his men better leave tomorrow—and the earlier the better. He would make sure to oblige the head of House Lannister in that matter. 

It wasn’t until he heard the door open and shut that Tywin looked up from the letter. How could he have allowed himself to do that? But it was said and done, however, and already in the past. The odds of him ever seeing Roose again were not great, and the odds of him doing anything like that again with anyone else were even smaller. He could forget this had ever happened just as easily as he had forgotten it all of those years ago. 

Tywin was practiced at ignoring what he wanted to and focusing on what couldn’t be ignored, and this could be ignored. He had a realm to rule. There was one less false king to worry about but still plenty of that needed to be done. Tywin picked up his quill and got back to work.


End file.
